Wasted Child Sleeps
by SunMoonAndSpoon
Summary: A sentimental take on Akito's last days.


Nana: Hello, and welcome to my ficcy! This is an extremely sentimental view of Akito's death. It as originally intended to be a prologue but I realized I didn't have it in me to finish this thing, I had originals to be working on, so I'll just leave it as is. I like it anyway, I hope you do too.

Warnings: This fic is based solely off the anime. There will be no mention of Rin, Kureno, or Chapter 97. I doubt I'll ever write a fic where we admit to Chapter 97. OO I am writing with the conceptions I formed before I started reading the manga. Much as I love it I don't have a firm enough understanding to write within that world, so I'm sticking with what I know.

Disclaimer: Would there be any confusion about the reality of the manga if I owned Furuba?

Wasted Child Sleeps

by Nana

The last few years were _hard_.

No. Hard would be an understatement, _hard _takes on a meaning rather like _easy _in this context. This has been _beyond _hard for him. There hasn't been a day or a night unmarred by illness, not _one _for four whole years of sick decline. Some days are better then others but every day manages to be the worst in it's own way. Akito can't get up in the morning; there's a combination of restlessness and relative immobility that's driving him mad.

One day late in the evening, six hours after waking he can raise his head, he can call out in a hoarse warped voice for water, someone to be with him. It takes that long to gather strength, that long to join the world.

Another day he screams and screams for no reason he remembers, and then he just mopes miserable in bed all day. He's exhausted after, so spent he cannot speak.

These are the last of Akito's days.

On the final one, the-day-he'd-die one he wakes up early, coughing for hours, he can't stop, can't breathe, can't anything. People hover over him but he cannot see or thank them, cannot stop shaking, thrashing, he has a seizure. He doesn't know what's wrong anymore, who he is…he does not feel a part of the world.

Someone is holding him, he's sitting on the bed with him like someone who wants to be there. And Akito's saying he's sorry because he must have hurt this man, he hurt everyone in the world and he knows that this is very last day, the life's all out of him and he can't see beyond the slow-crawling seconds. All that's in front of him is the grave, all that's in back is pain, his and others, caused by no-one-cares-now who.

"I'm dying…" he says, like this is a revelation, like he hasn't know this all along. Had there ever been a time when death did not describe his life? The first thing he was ever told is hey, you're going to die. When he got old enough to understand the statement he thought, well so are you. But after a while he made everyone else immortal in his head, and when others were sick he was horrified.

He repeats again, I'm dying, and the one with his arms around him tells him shhh shhh, that's ridiculous. "You'll be fine," he tells him, breath breezing through Akito's thinning hair, freezing his scalp and he shudders, coughs some more. "I promise."

"Who are you?" he asks, because he can barely hear at this point, can't distinguish one voice from another. He can't remember much; all he has is a sense that he's done something terrible, unforgivable. He is not forgiven, this he senses in the air.

"I'm Hatori," the man says, holding him harder, he's scared of this human shadow, this dear sweet dying amnesiac. Sickness after sickness, all these cancers have assaulted this poor child and now he has nothing left. Memories, senses, basic life functions are way out of his reach. He cannot walk and he cannot eat, and he has to wear diapers now. Nothing works, and he will die soon. Hatori knows this but he can't say it, can't let the truth reach Akito. "You don't remember me?" he asks, not hurt because he knows his mind can't tell him much now.

"I know you…" he murmurs, coughing so hard he brings up blood. "I'm cold, I know you…you're my doctor."

Hatori tells him loudly, slow that yes, he's his doctor, he's his cousin, and despite all misgivings he _loves _him. Hatori's best moments are usually indifferent, but Akito's almost gone now and he can't let him go thinking he's unloved. Because no one has come to see him since the cancer came. He's been all alone save for Hatori, and Hari hasn't always been there.

Akito can't stand to be alone.

"I…I forget…" he says, voice sleepy and drifting off. He never does say what he forgot, he can't really remember. Hatori wonders if he's forgotten who he is again, or if he's forgotten what _I love you_ means. It must be that, Akito would say something back if he understood.

He doesn't understand. His mind is blank; a haze devoid of the chaos that had reigned all the years he lived. He doesn't know if he feels pain or not now, it comes in great stabs and then goes away, leaves him with a floaty morphine dream and that's when Hari shakes him, wakes him up. Something's shot into his so-scarred veins, there's a mask over his face and he's breathing a little better.

"If I did…s-something bad to you I…I'm sorry…" he says, mask off in a minute because he has to say this before he goes. He feels pain in the air and it isn't his, everything he knows is tinged with something wrong. The specifics elude him now but he sees images, flashes in his mind of something hurtling towards a pallid face. Blood, tears, a woman walking away and he's smiling. The owner of the face is locked inside his mind and he's _not _smiling.

He sees something snaking coming at a child's legs, blood pouring from where it hits. Akito is saying _"I'm ready, Yuki," _and they're both naked. Yuki, whoever he is, is young with a blurred face, all of him obscured but so exposed, he's crying. Akito is looking at him, smiling. "I didn't mean to be happy…" he says, and Hatori does not understand, he isn't meant to.

Hari tries though, says, "You had every right to be happy." Akito coughs in response, asks who Yuki is after several breaths of mask-flavored oxygen.

"T-tell him…tell him I'm sorry too."

The doctor promises him he will and says he should stop talking. "You'll only tire yourself out Akito. Here, put the mask back on, try and get some sleep." And he takes the mask and places it gently on Akito's mouth, pushes the wasted child down to sleep. Akito's whole body shudders at the pleasure of the air, and he closes his blind gray eyes.

The next morning, Hatori sets about making funeral arrangements.

Nana: Whoo yeah sentimentality! It's meant to be vague, and I know it's confusing but I hope you liked it anyway. And of course you'll leave me a review?


End file.
